


Stay Soft, Sweetheart

by signifying_nothing



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 13:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5969269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he somehow always ends up at jimin's place when he has nowhere else to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Soft, Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> i needed something soft T_T

Jeongguk's head was resting on the door to Jimin's apartment. He was exhausted, shaking with sleeplessness and hunger, he was cold and wet and flooded with all kinds of desperate emotions he couldn't quite give names to. He'd come to Jimin's place because he didn't know where else to go but now he didn't have the fucking guts to knock on the door.

He wished he was cruel. He wished he was hard and vicious like Yoongi could be or strong and stalwart like Namjoon always was because maybe then nothing would hurt quite so much. He lifted his head and dropped it against the door, hard enough that it made his brain ache.

“Coming,” Jimin's lisping voice came through the wood and Jeongguk stood up straight, getting his last sniffle out and rubbing violently at his face as the door opened and there was Jimin, with his dark hair and pajamas and soft, soft face.

“Jeongguk,” he started, as though he was going to ask a question but instead just reached to drag him inside, closing the door, locking it. “Come on,” he was saying. “Come on, get out of those clothes. God, you're soaked—come on, lets get you cleaned up.”

Jeongguk let Jimin pull off his clothes. Let him wipe him down in the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet and staring out into the tile like it held the answer to all of life's questions and was whispering them into his ear. He let Jimin re-dress him, looked down at the floor as the thin hoodie was zippered up.

“Hey,” he heard Jimin ask, and he finally looked up and wished he hadn't, because Jimin was so soft, his expression so warm, everything Jeongguk missed about home and it made him feel so lost all over agin. “Oh, oh hey, come on,” Jimin was drawing him in, pushing Jeongguk's head into his shoulder and smoothing down his hair, cooing and rocking him back and forth. “Come on, Jeongguk. Come on.” Jeongguk was led to Jimin's bed, a double with a lot of sheets and a few too many pillows. He let himself get pulled, tucked himself in against his friend and closed his eyes. Jimin didn't ask what happened, he never, ever did. He didn't bother trying to say it was going to be okay when Jeongguk started to jerk, shake and then finally cry, face buried in the pillow next to his shoulder.

Jimin just laid there, smoothed his hand up and down Jeongguk's back and when he finally stopped crying, when his sobbing turned to choking and coughing, he shifted to spoon around Jeongguk, holding his hand and kissing the back of his head. “Get some sleep,” he said quietly. “I'll see you in the morning.”

Jeongguk felt a hot rush of shame run through him but it wasn't enough to make him get up and leave. It wasn't enough to make him run away from the comfort Jimin gave him, had been giving him every few weeks for the last eight months after Jeongguk had walked out of his parent's house with all of his documentation, the savings he'd managed to stash away, and no intention of going back. Jimin met Jeongguk at the soup kitchen where he volunteered, had offered to find him a place to stay. Yoongi had let Jeongguk in with no questions asked, his tiny basement apartment both a haven and a prison, as Yoongi... Yoongi was sick and he needed help, but he managed to be conscious enough of himself to warn Jeongguk, _you really should stay somewhere else tonight. I mean it, Jeonggukie. I don't..._

So here he was with Jimin while Namjoon (hopefully) got Yoongi under control and Jeongguk wondered what it was that Jimin had, what gentle little magic he carried in his chest that made Jeongguk feel so safe, so well taken care of.

“I feel like I should call you mom,” he whispered.

“Mm, some of my friends do,” Jimin hummed, half-asleep. “But you can just call me hyung.”

Hyung. Jeongguk called Yoongi hyung, sometimes when he was aware of himself and not on a bender or locking himself in the closet to make sure he couldn't get at anyone to hurt them. He called Namjoon hyung when he came with the keys and drove Jeongguk wherever he wanted to go before he went back to take care of Yoongi. Jimin wasn't a hyung, he was something else. Something warm and soft and perfect.

“Jiminah,” he murmured, and Jimin pinched his belly with a chuckle. “Jiminah. Thanks.”

“Mmm,” Jimin hummed, pecking another kiss to the back of Jeongguk's head. “Any time, hm? Go to bed.”

“Yeah."

Jeongguk closed his eyes and let himself relax slowly, piece by piece, until his consciousness started to slip through his fingers and all he could feel, see, smell was Jimin's bed, Jimin's skin, Jimin's hand wrapped around his own. Soft, comforting and catching him before he fell.

 


End file.
